


Alistair and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by fancyadancebrigadier



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Serial: s059 The Daemons, only ship in this fic is the brig/his helicopter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyadancebrigadier/pseuds/fancyadancebrigadier
Summary: Because the poor guy just can't catch a break
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: UNIT HQ Discord Fic and Art Challenge





	Alistair and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the UNIT HQ Discord fic challenge.
> 
> Prompt 2: Favourite Episode

It was the sharp ring of the telephone that woke Alistair from his slumber, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. He’d been having such a lovely dream about taking Doris for a weekend out to the seaside, and it had just been getting to the good bit. As he forced himself awake, he hoped, for the sake of whoever was on the other end of the line, that this would be worth it.

“Lethbridge-Stewart speaking.” He hoped he didn’t sound as groggy as he felt.

“It’s Corporal Bell, sir,” came the familiar voice on the other end. Bell – he liked Bell, and he had to remind himself of that as he grew tempted to snap at her for waking him up at such a ludicrous hour. “There’s been some going ons at HQ that I think you ought to know about.”

Alistair sighed. “And are they so vital as to ring me at-” he checked his watch – “Three in the morning?”

“Yes, sir. You see, the Doctor’s gone, and-”

“The Doctor’s gone?” he repeated, his hopes for going back to sleep slowly dwindling. “Gone where?”

“I’m not sure, sir-”

“Well, you should know, Corporal!” Realising he’d started yelling, Alistair took a deep breath. “Apologies, Bell. Can you get him on the line? I want to talk to him.”

Fortunately, Bell seemed no worse for wear after he snapped at her – she was a tough old bird, after all. “I told you, sir, he’s left. That’s what I rang to speak to you about. I figured that if the Doctor goes anywhere in a hurry, you ought to be the first to know about it.”

“Quite right. Oh, all right, then, wake up Miss Grant.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“She went with him, sir.”

Of course, she didn’t – when did any of his staff ever actually do what they were supposed to? “I see. And I suppose she didn’t leave a number either?”

“No, sir.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to ask for Captain Yates or Sergeant Benton?” He knew trying to get hold of either of them would be a bit of a stretch, given the behaviour of the Doctor and Miss Grant, but it was worth a shot. At the very least, he’d be able to get Benton on the line. He was the most dependable man he had-

“I’m afraid not, sir. They’ve taken your helicopter-”

That was the last straw. “My helicopter? Where to?” No amount of self-restraint could keep the frustration out of his voice – of all the cheek, skiving off in his helicopter. He expected it from a daredevil like Captain Yates, but Benton? Now that was disappointing.

There was a pause and the sound of ruffling paper as Bell searched for an answer. “Devil’s End, sir.”

“Devil’s End?”

“Yes, sir. Where they were digging up that barrow this evening. They televised it – I didn’t watch it myself, but it was supposed to be quite exciting.”

“I see.” _Don’t shoot the messenger, Alistair. She’s just doing her job._ “Alright, Corporal, get my car here right away.” He swung his legs out of bed, mourning the loss of a good night’s sleep. No more Doris by the seaside, it seemed.

“Very good, sir,” Bell replied. She ought to get a prize for being the only member of Alistair’s staff who did as she was told – perhaps he’d buy her a bottle of wine once this was over. “Shall I keep trying to contact them, sir?”

“Yes, and if they do contact you, tell them to stay put.”

With that, he slammed the phone down on the receiver. As he started dressing for the day, he resigned himself to the fact that this was not going to be the easiest of days to get through.

***

A few hours into the day, and Alistair’s prediction had proved to be entirely right – today was not going to be easy at all. For starters, he hadn’t been able to get to Devil’s End because of some freak heat barrier that was surrounding the place. That meant he couldn’t get inside and figure out what was going on and how best to stop it, which made him bloody well useless in the grand scheme of things. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the Doctor, Miss Grant, Captain Yates, and Sergeant Benton were stuck on the other side of the barrier, meaning they were getting to have all the fun while he had to spend the day with Sergeant Osgood, who was far from thrilling company. He knew it was childish and that he should be grateful he was in a safe area, but it was starting to bother him.

At the very least, he’d been able to get in contact with Captain Yates and get a decent idea of what was going on in the village because the silly bugger had remembered to bring his radio. Wonders never ceased.

“And that’s about it, sir,” said Yates, his poncy voice crackling through the radio. “Over.”

“I see, Yates,” he replied, trying his best to get everything straight in his head. “So, the Doctor was frozen stiff at the barrow and was then revived by a freak heatwave. Benton was beaten up by invisible forces, and the local white witch claims she’s seen the Devil.”

“Yes, sir,” came Yates’ cheerful reply. He was probably grinning like he always did. Did that man ever stop grinning like an idiot? He’d wipe that stupid look off his face if he knew what was good for him. “I know it sounds a bit wild.”

‘Sounds a bit wild’. Ridiculous. “It does indeed, Yates. Now listen, I’m bringing up some men to investigate this heat barrier. Let me talk to the Doctor, over.”

“I’m afraid you can’t sir.” Alistair started counting to ten. “He’s gone up to the dig with Jo, over.”

“I see…” He took a deep breath – maybe if he hadn’t been woken up at three in the bloody morning, he’d be taking this a little bit better. But he had been woken up at three in the morning, and he was struggling to stay professional. “Well, Yates, any further revelations?”

“Just one, sir.”

“Well, what is it?”

“We’ve found out who’s at the bottom of all this. It’s the Master. Over and out.”

Because of course it was.

***

Eventually, Alistair got so fed up with the whole thing that he decided that blowing up the heat barrier would be the best option. He knew the Doctor would tell him off, but at this stage, he didn’t care – they’d tried everything to get past that heat barrier and none of it was working. Besides, Alistair would do anything to get things moving, as he was only getting antsier just waiting around for his scientists to figure something out. Yes, it was time to take action into his own hands.

He pulled out his radio, hoping he could get in touch with Captain Yates to warn them before he blasted everything to smithereens.

“Greyhound Two, come in please, over.” The radio crackled into life.

“Is that you, Yates?” When he received the affirmative, he continued. “Now look, we’re going to blast our way in. I’m calling up the artillery and RAF strike command. You lot had better evacuate to the cellars, over.”

Yates didn’t respond. Instead, all Alistair could hear was the rustling and bumping of the radio changing hands before the Doctor’s familiar voice started to come through.

“You’ll do no such thing, Lethbridge-Stewart!” So, the Doctor was going to complain about his plan, just as he’d predicted. He barely let Alistair get a word in before carrying on his diatribe. “Of all the idiotic suggestions… In the first place, the energy released would only strengthen the barrier, in the second place it would provoke the most appalling reprisals, and in the third place, I’ve got a better idea. Over.”

Did he now? Well, he could’ve told everyone about it earlier. “Well, what is it? Now, I’m not going to sit here like a-” He paused, taking a breath to soothe his frustrations. “Like a spare lemon waiting for the squeezer. Do you hear me? Over.”

“Have you got the mobile HQ there?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“With the new mark 4A condenser unit?”

With little to no idea what a 4A condenser unit was, the Brigadier looked to Sergeant Osgood for help. When the mousy little man gave a nod, he turned his attention back to the radio. “Apparently.”

“Good. Then I’ve got your problem solved and mine.” He sounded so smug about it – but then again, the Doctor sounded smug about everything. “We’re going to build a diothermic energy exchanger. Is your technical fellow there?”

He beckoned Osgood over. “He’s listening.”

“Right. Well, tell him to build an EHF wide bandwidth variable phase oscillator, with a negative feedback circuit turntable to the frequency of an air molecule at, er, what is the temperature up at the barrier, Brigadier?”

He exchanged a glance with Osgood – he looked just as confused as Alistair felt. “We’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Doctor. Over.”

“Well, it’s a simple enough question. Over.”

Alistair gritted his teeth. “No, no, what you said earlier. The oscillating feedback bit.”

The Doctor’s sigh of frustration sounded rather theatrical – but then again, he did enjoy making Alistair feel like an idiot, so it was probably entirely intentional. “All right, I’ll come out and explain it to you myself. Yates and Benton can stay here and keep an eye open. Only don’t touch anything until I get there. Understood?”

He supposed the Doctor coming along to help wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. After all, the sooner they got this heat barrier down the sooner all this could get sorted out. Then they could all go home, and Alistair could pick up where he’d left off in his dream. No matter how much of a twit the Doctor was going to be, it would be worth it for that much, at least.

“All right, Doctor, we’ll try it your way. But get a move on, will you?”

“I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

“Make it five. Over and out.”

***

Just in case Alistair’s day couldn’t have got any worse, he’d just had to watch in passive anguish as his helicopter went up in a ball of smoke and flame. His helicopter. The one that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.

Some idiot had driven it straight into the heat barrier, no thanks to the Doctor trying to get it off their tale. Alistair’s military mind saw the reason for it – whoever had hijacked it had dangerous intentions and was putting the Doctor, Miss Grant, and Captain Yates in danger. It made sense for it to be destroyed so it would take the attacker with it. But his emotional mind was simply upset by the loss of his favourite helicopter.

Alistair watched, his heart heavy, as the Doctor drove towards the heat barrier on his motorbike, trying his best not to look at the smouldering wreckage of the helicopter.

“Twenty thousand pounds of UNIT money gone up in a puff of smoke,” he said, not bothering to disguise how forlorn he was.

But the Doctor just looked at him with a humourless grin. “You’ve got the mind of an accountant, Lethbridge-Stewart.”

The mind of a man in mourning, more like.

***

By the time the day had drawn to a close, Alistair had got through the heat barrier, the Master had been apprehended, and the local church had been blown to smithereens because the Devil didn’t like Miss Grant. Or at least, that was how Alistair understood it. But the important thing was that it was all over, and he could finally lie down for a well-deserved nap.

He had to admit, standing in the sun on the village green and watching the Master be carried away in handcuffs by his men did cheer him up a little. He’d been such a pain in the neck this past year, and Alistair had started to wonder if they’d ever get rid of him. But now they had, and life would be so much easier for it.

By the time the Master was out of view, Miss Hawthorne – the white witch Yates had mentioned – was already moving on to other things. “Listen,” she said simply, with a smile on her face.

“To what?” asked the Doctor, who looked none the worse for wear after his encounter with the Devil himself.

Miss Grant mirrored Miss Hawthorne’s smile, for once catching onto something before the Doctor did. “Yes, the birds are singing again.”

“Oh, and smell the flowers,” said Miss Hawthorne, clearly enjoying herself. Alistair watched as some of the other villagers started to flock around a maypole at the centre of the green, apparently enjoying the day as much as the Misses Grant and Hawthorne. Where they’d managed to find the time to put up a maypole of all things was beyond Alistair – hadn’t they all just been hypnotised by the Master? Maybe if he hadn’t been stuck behind that wretched heat barrier all day, he’d know more about it.

“Well, it makes a change from the smell of sulphur, doesn’t it?” said the Doctor, and Miss Grant laughed. Alistair managed a smile, but he was a bit too tired to do much more.

“The May day miracle has happened again,” said Miss Hawthorne. “The Earth is born anew.”

Cheery music began to drift from who knew where, and the villagers started to dance around the maypole. Alistair watched them for a while but was soon distracted by the presence of Sergeant Benton in casual dress. Now, why on earth was he in casual dress? Yates was in the same state – what did they think this was, a nice weekend out in the countryside?

“All underway, sir,” he said, referring to the arrest of the Master.

Before Alistair could respond, Miss Hawthorne rested her hand on Benton’s arm, smiling from ear to ear. “Sergeant, we must do the fertility dance to celebrate.

It was hard not to laugh. Well, hard for Alistair, anyway – Benton looked a little pale. “Oh, no, sorry, ma’am. I’m still rather busy-”

“Oh, nonsense, Sergeant. Come along.”

Alistair had planned to give Benton some sort of punishment for making off with his helicopter without permission, but he rather thought that being made to do the ‘fertility dance’ with Miss Hawthorne would be sufficient enough. At the very least, he’d get a kick out of seeing the burly Sergeant prance around a maypole.

Shortly after Benton and Miss Hawthorne left, Jo and the Doctor followed – both, it seemed, a lot more willingly than poor Benton. Finally feeling his frustration dissipate, Alistair decided he’d spend the afternoon with his feet up at the pub, as he needed a bit of relaxation after the taxation of the day. He was about to make his way to the pub when Captain Yates appeared at his sigh, one of those sly grins plastered on his thin face.

“Fancy a dance, Brigadier?”

If the question had come earlier, he would’ve bit the Captain’s head off. But, after all they’d been through, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Him losing his temper at, admittedly, one of his best officers would just make an already bad day worse, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that at all. So, he simply shook his head.

“That’s kind of you, Captain Yates. I think I’d rather have a pint.”

And goodness knew he needed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hi on Tumblr @fancyadancebrigadier


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